


The Show Must Go On

by itreads



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Self-Harm, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, everyone has a sad story, this whole thing is sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itreads/pseuds/itreads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The legendary Enjolras is coming home for summer! Grantaire can't wait to finally meet him in person.</p><p>Until he does.</p><p>He wishes he had waited. He wishes he'd never met him in the first place.</p><p>No, that's a lie. Enjolras is probably a nice person. But he despises Grantaire for no apparent reason.</p><p>He's determined to get to the bottom of this. Why does this god hate him before he's even got to know him?</p><p>Combeferre says it's to do with Enjolras' past and Grantaire's present. But what does that mean?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Greek Legend

**Author's Note:**

> word of warning: there's no capitals or speech marks so try not to get confused :)

he got to see his dad. was he happy? not particularly. nor was he upset, or angry, or embarrassed. he felt nothing towards him. he brought him into this world, and that was it. _gee, thanks. what a wonderful thing you've done. you deserve a fucking medal._

 

people said he looked like his dad. he could sort of see it. messy dark brown hair, blue eyes. short and stocky. grantaire's nose had been broken a few more times than  his dad's, and his dad's teeth were slightly more crooked than his, but, yeah, they did look similar.

 

he hoped his dad wouldn't try anything during his week stay (bahorel was going on holiday with feuilly, and although grantaire was given permission to stay in the house, he didn't feel welcome. but, then again, he never felt welcome anywhere.)

 

he had learnt to live with his dad's 'job' (or side job, whatever). by live, he meant not care as much. he'd already run away, so he couldn't really do that again, and his dad was one sneaky ass motherfucker when it came to dodging the police. not that they cared anyway. they had mass murderers on their hands. no time for someone like him.

 

his dad got to see him. was he scared? terrified.

 

what have you been doing lately, son? his dad would ask.

 

sold some paintings here and there, he'd reply.

 

not a good job, i don't think. you need something real. get a bit of money rolling in.

 

don't you fucking preach to me about what job i have. it'll always be better than yours.

 

don't swear in my fucking face, grantaire. i'm your fucking father.

 

i'm twenty-one. i can swear whenever i want.

 

_not under my fucking roof!_

 

you know what, i give up. i'm going to get a drink, grantaire would say, then he'd leave and go find joly or someone and get drunk and come home at two am. then his dad would hurt him, and he'd go to sleep. minimal harm done.

 

he had it all planned out.

 

it was a tuesday. that meant wednesday tomorrow. musain meeting, where he could meet up with all his friends. if he remembered correctly, the legendary enjolras was going to be there, back home for summer before he went back to his expensive boarding school to hide from city scum like grantaire.

 

he'd never met enjolras, but everyone talked about him. by everyone he meant courf and ferre. the three of them founded this group thing. grantaire thought it was utter bullshit - they'd never change a damn thing in this fucked up world. but it made his friends happy, so he wasn't going to complain that much.

 

how _wrong_ could he get?

 

wednesday evening came around, and grantaire got to the musain early for a change. he probably just didn't want to spend more time with his dad than necessary.

 

he walked through the door and, woah, take a step back there son 'cause you've just arrived in fucking heaven. not a heaven for angels. a heaven for fucking gods.

 

_in what way do i fit in here?_

 

who invited apollo to our meeting? he said loudly, causing courfeyrac to turn around and grin widely.

 

r! he said. i completely forgot that you've never met enjolras before! wait, wait, formal introduction. both of you come over here. they did. right, enjolras, this is grantaire. r, this is enjolras, who i'm sure you've heard plenty about!

 

grantaire stuck his hand out, saying, nice to meet you! he focussed his eyes on his perfect face. his head was surrounded by a halo of golden hair and his eyes were blinding and he was tall and his _lips_ \- grantaire just wanted to touch all of him.

 

enjolras obviously didn't feel the same way about him. he was eyeing grantaire up and down with a sour look upon his face. his perfect lips were pinched tight and he looked positively sick. his pale skin was actually starting to look a little green. grantaire slowly withdrew his hand when it was clear enjolras wasn't going shake it.

 

they stood like that, staring each other down, for what felt like hours, grantaire's grin fading fast. out of the corner of his eye, he saw courfeyrac's mouth form a small 'o' of recognition, then his eyebrows furrow with worry.

 

r was the first to break it off. he stepped back, nodding slightly to enjolras, then finding joly who was sitting with bossuet with a drink ready. he saw enjolras shrug off courfeyrac's hand from his shoulder and storm towards the toilets, fists clenched.

 

what did i do? he asked bossuet quietly. he looked scared as he shrugged and said, i don't know, grantaire. i don't know.

 

* * *

 

 

Combeferre slowly opened the door to the men's toilets. Courfeyrac had said Ferre was the best person to talk to Enjolras, because he 'knew what it was about more than anyone else'.

 

So he had a fair idea of what this was about. He knew both Enjolras and Grantaire, and he was pretty sure he knew how they were connected. But it was for them to decide when they wanted to tell each other. He was just the loyal shoulder to cry on. He didn't mind.

 

He looked around quickly, scanning for any immediate signs of damage. One of the sinks was chipped and painted with a spot of something red. One of the stalls was locked, and he could hear muffled crying coming from within it.

 

"Enjolras?" he said softly. The door unlocked and opened a crack. Combeferre pushed it open further, walked in and closed it behind him. He motioned for Enj to stand up, then sat down on the closed lid of the seat. Enjolras sat on his lap and buried his head in his neck, sobbing and whispering, " _It's him, it's him, it's him_."


	2. Lost In The Echo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the kudos and comments on the last chapter guys! I'm hoping to post often because it's the holidays, so here's chapter 2 :)
> 
> also at the end there's self harm which might trigger anxiety or something? idk i just felt like i should warn you please stay safe

his dad was asleep on the couch when he arrived home. grantaire would usually have taken the beer bottle out of his hand before it smashed on the floor, or covered him in a blanket, but this time, he left him alone. _what have you done to me to make you deserve my care?_

 

he changed into an old shirt and climbed into bed, but he couldn't sleep. he kept thinking of what happened today.

 

_did i smell?_ but that wouldn't have caused such a strong reaction.

 

_did i push him out of a tree when we were kids?_ surely he would have remembered.

 

_does he know i live in a place not far from the gutter?_ how the fuck would he know that?

 

he wasn't drunk. he wasn't annoying, not at that point. he wasn't _naked_.

 

_maybe he somehow knows i'm gay_. the legendary enjolras, judging people because of their sexuality. no fucking way.

 

grantaire got up. he needed to paint. luckily, he'd brought some of his supplies with him. he didn't know of any art stores that were open at three in the morning. he set up his easel, then went to pick a cd from his dad's supply.

 

he grabbed the one on the top of the pile without looking at it. he slid it into the cd player and turned the volume on full. Linkin Park started blaring out of the speakers.

 

_meh_ , he thought. _it'll have to do._

 

he had a whole array of different colours to choose from, yet he found himself drawn to the red. _why red?_ he wasn't angry.

 

he didn't really know what he was going to paint. no, that wasn't true - he knew exactly what he was going to paint - he just didn't know how.

 

grantaire had always loved painting, ever since he was a little kid. he used to get into a shit load of trouble with his dad for scribbling on the walls with his wax crayons. his grades at school were terrible, because he never concentrated and never cared. he knew he loved art, and he knew he didn't want anything else.

 

he also knew that you couldn't push yourself when doing anything creative. unless you were motivated, your picture lacked an energy needed for it to come alive. kind of like life.

 

people didn't seem to understand that.

 

can you draw me a picture? they'd ask.

 

what, right now? he'd reply.

 

yeah.

 

okay, but it probably won't be all that good.

 

that's not true! you're amazing at drawing!

 

and then he'd give them a sketch of whatever, and he'd see the disappointment in their eyes, disappointment which they hurriedly tried to cover up. but he always saw it. it always made him feel like a failure.

 

even so, he picked out a thin brush. dipping the brush in the blood red colour, he painted straight onto the canvas, outlining a figure.

 

after just the first stroke, he knew where he was going. soon, he was lost in the painting, surrounded by music, building his monochrome artwork brush stroke by brush stroke.

 

grantaire stood back and let out a small sigh, almost like a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding. he looked at the light-up alarm clock on his bedside dresser. 05:30, it read.

 

_crap._ his dad would wake up soon to go to work. his real job, this time, the one he was paid to do. he hated grantaire painting, especially when he did it instead of sleeping. he said it made him look like a druggie who'd been out all night and couldn't be bothered to wash. _wouldn't want his son to ruin his status, now, would he?_ ha. too late. and besides, what status?

 

grantaire quickly shoved all the paints into his sock drawer, placing his still-wet paintbrush into his back pocket and leaving out the picture to dry.

 

it was good - he would give himself that. it wasn't his usual style, though. he normally painted dark themes in bright colours, mixing up emotions to explain his fucked up life. it didn't really look like enjolras, either, but anyone who knew him would be able to see it. a stern-yet-caring face stared out through a mix of red swirls and patterns, all surrounded by a bright halo.

 

grinning at it one last time, he turned and rushed out of his room to make himself a coffee.

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras couldn't stop thinking about him. About his dark, messy hair, about his piercing blue eyes.

 

Of course he knew it wasn't actually _him_. The new guy - R? - was about half the age. But when he walked in, all Enjolras could hear the rough voice, all he could see was the manic grin, all he could taste was the fear and the blood on his chewed lip. He half expected him to say the exact same words, too - it felt like he was reliving the whole thing, spiralling down into a depressed insanity, one where only he could hear his own screams.

 

_If you scream, it'll only make it worse._

 

He wanted to call Combeferre, but he was too scared to even walk across the corridor. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. He wanted to scream, but screaming would _only make it worse._

 

Instead, he reached over and opened the drawer next to his bed. the cold metal gleamed at him, poking out from underneath the paper and other crap. Why did he even keep it? He should have known. It had been years. _God dammit, Enjolras, this isn't like you. Get a fucking grip._

 

He took hold of the blade, surprised at how familiar it felt in his shaking hand. He brought it to the faintly scarred skin of his thin wrists, watching the blood mix with the tears that were finally rolling down his cheeks.


	3. The Winner Of Coconut Mall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! I know it sounds cheesy but your comments and kudos make me so happy. thanks again :)

grantaire was bored. he didn't know why - it wasn't like he usually had that much to do even when bahorel was there. he would maybe paint or go out for a drink or visit joly and bossuet or something.

 

he couldn't actually do any of that right now, though. he didn't have anything to paint on, or money to go buy something to do so. it was the middle of the fucking day. he wasn't going to be that loner who spent his whole life in a bar. joly and bossuet were out with musichetta. they'd asked if he wanted to come as well, but he could tell they were only asking to be polite. besides, he didn't want to feel like a third wheel (or fourth wheel, that was probably more accurate).

 

he called courfeyrac. he always knew how to liven things up a bit.

 

hey, courf, i'm bored.

 

so you called uncle courf to come round and play a game of scrabble with you?

 

i just need to get out of this house. and do something. even scrabble sounds good right now.

 

courfeyrac laughed. luckily for you, r, i'm not currently fucking anybody. he paused for grantaire to laugh, which didn't happen, so he quickly explained _._ in other words, i'm free, so yeah, you can come round.

 

thanks, courf. you're a life saver. see you in five?

 

yep. grantaire could practically hear him grinning. see ya!

 

courfeyrac hung up, and grantaire went to put some shoes on.

 

***

 

he arrived at courfeyrac's about ten minutes later. he knocked twice, like he always did, and opened the door when he heard courf yell, it's not locked!

 

he walked into the front room just in time to see luigi get blown up by a blue shell on the tv screen.

 

i was first! he wailed, and grantaire would be lying if he said courf didn't look like a deflating balloon.

 

too bad, he replied. now you're not.

 

shh, shh, you're distracting me! he said, his thumbs white from holding the buttons so hard. he took in a deep breath as he came up to the finishing line and...

 

drove into a banana.

 

grantaire swore that courfeyrac was almost crying as a flood of characters swarmed past luigi over the finish line.

 

i was doing so well, he whimpered. then, as if only just noticing his friend there, he said, oh, hi r! do you wanna join in?

 

grantaire took a controller and sat down on the sofa. (courfeyrac's sofas were the comfiest he'd ever sat on. ever.) he chose bowser as his character, partly because luigi was already taken, and partly because, well, he's a fire-breathing dragon, and dragons are fucking awesome.

 

he hated to admit it, but he was terrible at mario kart. he was terrible at steering, terrible at choosing the right car - most of the time, he even forgot how to activate his power-ups. imagine marius playing mario kart - yeah, he was worse than that. speaking of marius...

 

hey, where's marius today? he asked courf.

 

oh, he's in his room with cosette, courf answered without taking his eyes off the screen. he was coming first, as usual.

 

grantaire looked at courfeyrac, feeling awkward. ohh, he said.

 

courfeyrac laughed, and said, come on, r. it's marius. they're not going to be doing anything. grantaire laughed weakly.

 

they played one round (four races), in which courfeyrac came first in each and grantaire came 12th, 9th, 10th and 12th respectively, before marius and cosette came into the room, looking not at all ruffled. grantaire was very, very glad.

 

we heard you guys playing mario kart, she said. mind if we join?

 

not at all, courfeyrac said. the controllers are the drawer underneath the tv.

 

cool beans. i absolutely rock at this game.

 

turns out that marius was also quite good at this game. so, obviously, grantaire kept losing. he was so caught up in his failures, he didn't realise that cosette was beating courfeyrac until he finished the race, this time in 11th place, and she was dancing around the room waving her controller in the air. courfeyrac, on the other hand, had sunk far into the sofa, cheeks red and eyes almost swimming with tears.

 

courfeyrac, you came second, grantaire tried to say comfortingly. i came last. well, 11th, but that's basically last. even the crappy computer controlled cars beat me.

 

courfeyrac grinned. i knew you had some soft stuff in you, r! grantaire punched him in the arm, only now realising he'd been fooled.

 

cosette came first overall, only coming close second to courf in one race. he was devastated to lose his title as mario kart king. marius was somewhere in the middle, 5th or 6th. grantaire, surprising even himself, finished not last but 8th. _but only because we played the easiest track on the whole game_ , he thought to himself.

 

time flew by. no one realised how late it was getting until cosette suddenly stood up.

 

crap. i'm meant to be at ep's place in, like, ten minutes.

 

everyone looked at the big mirrored clock on courfeyrac's wall. 2:30pm. they'd been playing for nearly four hours. only now did grantaire notice his stomach rumbling. courfeyrac's next to him did the same.

 

marius stood up next to cosette. we'd better get going, he said, taking her arm and walking with her out of the room.

 

time flies when you're having fun, courfeyrac said. want a late lunch?

 

grantaire's stomach answered for him.

 

as soon as they got into the kitchen, someone knocked on courf's front door.

 

i'll get that, he said. he opened the door, and combeferre was standing there with a very solemn look on his face.

 

courfeyrac, we need to talk about enjolras.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras hadn't wanted Combeferre to see, but he had anyway. He'd seen how Enjolras pulled his sleeves over his hands, a habit he'd supposedly broken out of years ago. He'd seen his red, blotchy eyes, and the deep bags underneath them.

 

"Coffee?" he'd said that morning.

 

"No thanks."

 

Enjolras never refused coffee.

 

In a way, he was glad that Combeferre didn't push it. He never did. He always waited for others to speak first, to ponder over their own worries before deciding if they were worth the infamous help of good old Ferre.

 

But now, it was annoying. New guy sparks depression, depression sparks anxiety, anxiety means there's no way he's going to start a conversation. Even with Ferre.

 

Enjolras hated himself. He wasn't a fucking child any more.

 

_You were a child then, though_ , Combeferre would have said. _No one should have faced what you faced at that age. No one should have to face it at all._

 

He needed to talk. Combeferre almost certainly knew at least something that could help. He always did.

 

_Tell anyone and you're dead._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I know not much has happened yet, but the next chapter will be more exciting, I promise


	4. Never Forget The Tissues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if R seems a bit ooc in this chapter... sorry

grantaire didn't mean to eavesdrop. that wasn't like him. he was annoying, a drunk, he lied to his dad sometimes. but he didn't eavesdrop.

 

until now. why did he do it? he didn't know. was he pleased with the results? certainly not. does he wish he could turn back time and just not have listened? don't we all.

 

they went into the front room and closed the door. grantaire stood outside and pressed his ear to the cold wood, quietly.

 

what's wrong with him? that was courfeyrac. he sounded concerned.

 

he's wearing long sleeves. combeferre. grantaire didn't understand, but courf seemed to get it.

 

shit.

 

yeah.

 

maybe this wasn't a good idea.

 

we weren't to know. how did we even know it was the same person? enj seemed to have been fine these past few years.

 

that's true. maybe we were just hoping he would have gotten over it by now.

 

would you? i mean if your... if the person who, you know... combeferre said the next part so low that grantaire couldn't hear. if they came after you, i doubt you'd be over it.

 

yeah. courfeyrac sounded horrified and worried at the same time.

 

not that any of us would know. it only ever happened to him.

 

if i didn't know better, i'd say grantaire would be the best person to talk to him. he's the only one who'd know what it was like, from what i've heard.

 

this confused grantaire. what did courfeyrac know about him that in any way could link to enjolras? what had other people been telling him?

 

there's no way i'm risking them two being alone together after what happened at the musain. and last night. combeferre sounded surer than he'd ever bee  before.

 

maybe we should leave it alone for a week or two. keep them apart and see how well it works. then decide what to do.

 

that's just prolonging the pain and you know it, ferre said sharply. then, realising he'd just snapped at one of his best friends, he apologised. sorry. i just can't bear the thought of seeing enj like that again, after so many years. it's disgusting that he'll have to live with the weight on his shoulders for the rest of his life. it kills me to see him so unhappy, so depressed. i just want to make it right. i want to erase all the hurt. combeferre was crying now, small sobs of unspoken grief for his best friend.

 

there was a long pause. all grantaire could hear was the faint noise of crying. combeferre never cried. at least not where anyone else could hear. he didn't want to hear any more.

 

he went into the kitchen, finding a scrap of paper and a pen.

 

_forgot to do something at home,_ he lied. _see you around._

 

leaving the note on the table where it could be seen clearly, he left courfeyrac's house, closing the door as quietly as he could.

 

grantaire didn't go home. there was no point. he had a whole afternoon left, and nothing to do at home.

 

he sat down on a bench in the local park. he needed to think.

 

one thing he knew for sure: he'd done something to enjolras in the past. something terrible. something that had caused him to get depression.

 

something that he obviously knew a lot about.

 

at that moment, all he could think of was that he could have gotten enj drunk when they were kids, then enj going home only to have his parents kick him out for not being the perfect little boy they'd hoped for. that sounded like something he would do. send him to a posh school for rich kids, that'll sort him out. then enj got depressed.

 

if grantaire had got drunk as well, that might explain why he didn't remember much about it.

 

it also fitted, because he was almost always drunk and he'd run away when he was young too.

 

the only thing that didn't quite work was the fact that grantaire couldn't remember enjolras at all. getting drunk once wouldn't erase his entire memory of a close friend, which he obviously was.

 

maybe he was just forgetful.

 

he got up suddenly, making a spur of the moment decision to go and visit this new-found old friend. he needed answers, and if he wasn't going to get them, he was at least going to apologise. he walked quickly towards combeferre's house, where he knew enjolras was staying.

 

_knock, knock._ two knocks, just like always. he waited.

 

the door opened, and enjolras appeared.

 

grantaire began. i'm sorry, okay? i don't know exactly what i did, but it must have been terrible, and i'm truly sorry. if you got into trouble with your folks when i got you drunk, i hope they weren't too harsh, oh god, did they hurt you? fuck. i'm not doing this right. what i mean to say is you're-

 

he was cut off when enjolras emptied the contents of his stomach onto grantaire's feet.

 

* * *

 

 

Why the fuck did he eat that whole tub of Ben & Jerry's?

 

It wasn't like him to comfort eat, or binge. He didn't have an eating disorder of any type. That was never his style.

 

_What am I saying? I'm not making any sense whatsoever_ , he thought.

 

And now he'd just thrown up all over this man's shoes.

 

R? Was that his real name? He was sure there was something longer, but he couldn't remember it. Fuck. He was losing his mind.

 

"Fucking hell!" the man, R, yelled, digging into his back pocket to find some conveniently placed tissues. He bent down and started wiping vomit from his Vans. Then, he looked up at Enjolras. "Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were ill. Sorry. Do you need a tissue?"

 

Enjolras looked down at the outstretched hand holding a clean, white tissue. He took it silently, wiping his mouth.

 

R had taken off his shoes, and was now saying, "Okay, okay. Um. I think I should go. Wait. Is there anyone here with you? Do you need help? Do you want me to call anyone? Combeferre should be home soon. You know what? You should go to bed. You look like you haven't slept in months. I'll leave you in peace, if that's what you want. Please talk."

 

Enjolras couldn't trust himself to open his mouth, so he shook his head, handed R a pair of clean shoes and smiled as best he could. Then he shut the door in his face.

 

Everything he'd said was triggering something. Enjolras hated it, but he couldn't help it.

 

_Is anyone here with you?_ I'm not _that_ guy.

 

_Do you need help?_ Please. I've needed help for the past eight years.

 

_Do you want me to call anyone?_ Screaming will only make it worse. Tell anyone and you're dead.

 

_Go to bed. I'll leave you. That's what you want._ It was all menacing, all terrifying.

 

Just like before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate making Combeferre cry. I'm sorry


	5. Sweet Dream Or A Beautiful Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'm ever going to stop thanking you guys for all the kudos and comments. thankyouthankyouthankyou! :D

hey, bahorel. listen, i'm sorry to interrupt your wonderful holiday with feuilly, but i've made a mistake and i don't even know what i did wrong.

 

that didn't make sense, mate, but carry on.

 

grantaire had decided to call bahorel. for comfort or for answers? he didn't know. but he'd been living with him for six years, ever since he ran away at the age of 15, and he felt closest to him out of all of his friends.

 

well, you know enjolras? of course you do. um, he was at the musain meeting last night, and he didn't like me. do you know why? also, i just went to apologise for whatever i did wrong, and he threw up on my feet. did i do something ages ago that i can't remember? is he just in an off mood? i don't know. fuck. i just want him to like me. or tolerate me. just something!

 

bahorel didn't say anything for a long time. grantaire checked his phone to see if he'd hung up. nope.

 

when he finally did speak, he said, um, i'm gonna pass you over to feuilly. i'll talk to you later! he sounded worried, like he was keeping a secret.

 

why did no one want grantaire to know anything? from what he'd heard, he figured he was the one person that should know. yet still, he was kept in the dark.

 

hey grantaire! feuilly sounded cheery, as always. so, i heard you've met the legendary enjolras.

 

yeah, i've met him.

 

look, r, i know it must be frustrating for you, not knowing what's going on. here we go again, grantaire thought. but, feuilly continued, it's not my place to tell you. i don't even know if i'm meant to know. if you want to find anything out, my best suggestion would be to talk to enj about it.

 

but he hates me.

 

feuilly sighed loudly. it's not you he hates, grantaire.

 

he was taken aback. _not me?_ he thought. _what the fuck does that mean?_

 

neither spoke for nine heartbeats. grantaire counted.

 

feuilly?

 

yeah?

 

can you just answer this one question?

 

i can try.

 

did i get enjolras drunk and cause his parents to kick him out when we were, like, ten?

 

feuilly almost laughed. almost. no, you didn't. like i said, it wasn't really anything to do with you.

 

grantaire wanted to ask more questions, he had a never ending list in his head. but instead, he said, i don't understand.

 

he could practically hear feuilly's sympathetic smile. 'the feuilly smile', everyone called it. no one else could seem to be able to smile in that way. only combeferre was close.

 

just talk to enj, he said.

 

***

 

grantaire had a nightmare that night. well, it was less of a nightmare, and more of a vividly realistic memory. starring extra, not-so-realistic aspects.

 

_i know you're drunk._

 

_crap. grantaire hadn't expected his dad to be awake. he was almost always passed out by the time he got home._

 

_he wasn't going to argue. yes, he was drunk. and so was his father. they both had violent tendencies, and being intoxicated with alcohol didn't really help._

 

_i know you've been out fucking a girl._

 

_i was not fucking a girl! so much for not arguing._

 

_don't lie to me! his dad had stood up now, and despite their close heights, he was towering over grantaire. you smell like sex!_

 

_no, dad, that's not me you're smelling. and besides, i was round bahorel's!_

 

_was he fucking a girl, then?_

 

_dad, you know bahorel has a boyfriend._

 

_his father breathed out harshly. why do you spend your whole life with these faggots? can't you just be normal, settle down with a nice girl?_

 

_oh, so now you want me to be fucking a girl?_

 

_that's not what i meant._

 

_i'm fifteen._

 

_isn't it normal for kids your age to be involved?_

 

_grantaire tried to change the subject. anyways, you can't talk._

 

_i can talk all i fucking like, thank you very much._

 

_dad, i'm tired, and so are you, probably. i'm going to go to bed._

 

_not yet you aren't. i'm not finished._

 

_NO! i'm sick an tired of you, and everything you do. every night, if you haven't been out already, it's always, grantaire, come here, i'm not finished! why should i? why should_ i _listen to_ you, _the one man who never listens to anybody? what if i don't want to? i hate you, i hate you and everything you do, everything you stand for!_

 

_grantaire-_

 

_no. don't fucking talk to me. he tried to get up the stairs to his room. he'd decided._

 

_but his father caught his arm. don't you dare run away, young man. it was like he'd read his mind._

 

_grantaire was crying now, big fat tears streaming down his cheeks. he knew what was coming. he always knew what was coming. how could he not know what was coming?_

 

_his dad pulled him close, very close, too close. this wasn't normal. nothing was normal. grantaire was scared._

 

_and then it started. for the last time, his dad reached down._

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras hadn't slept in two days. He made up for that now.

 

As soon as R left, he changed into a comfy t shirt and crept under the covers. He fell asleep almost immediately, and was still far away when Combeferre came home, late that evening.

 

He hadn't meant to be late home. Enjolras needed him.

 

But it was hard to remember that when  he was with Courfeyrac. He had no idea when or how it had started, but he was in love. Not schoolboy-crush type, either. It was heart-racing, flushed cheeks I-want-to-kiss-you-right-now kind of love. He grinned just at the thought.

 

_Stop_ , he told himself. _This is selfish._ _Enjolras needs you, maybe more than ever, and you're thinking about all the things you'd like to do to Courfeyrac._ _  
_

 

_But Enjolras is asleep..._

 

_And so should you be. Go to bed.  
_

 

Combeferre did this often. Arguing with himself. He found it often sorted things out far quicker than anything else. It made him see reason.

 

Still grinning sheepishly, he went to his room.

 

_Sweet dreams, Combeferre._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that i'm focussing on Ferre a lot, but I just really love him. So much. He's such an important person. <3


	6. I Don't Need Your Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras is very stubborn and Jehan is a precious little moody flower

the rest of the week passed uneventfully. bahorel and feuilly came back on sunday night, so grantaire moved back home. thankfully, his father had left him mostly alone during his stay. he'd never admit it to anyone, least of all himself, but he had been fucking scared.

 

wednesday came round again, and the time for another musain meeting sprung up on grantaire almost unexpectedly. he was half looking forward to it, and half... well, he didn't know how enjolras would react.

 

you probably should have talked to him before seeing him in front of all our friends again, feuilly said. grantaire stayed silent, not sure how to get out of that one.

 

he arrived late that evening, as usual. he'd been contemplating whether to go or not - go, and get ignored by enjolras, or stay at home, and miss hanging out with his friends?

 

_why am i even so hung up on what enjolras thinks of me?_ he asked himself. he already knew the answer to that.

 

when he first walked in, he thought enjolras didn't even realise he was there. but he saw him look while he was sitting down. he knew, alright.

 

he was just trying to blank him.

 

grantaire had sort of known this was going to happen. he supposed it was better than enjolras hiding in the toilets for the rest of the meeting.

 

still, he felt left out. king red was including everyone else in his discussions.

 

_notice me, senpai,_ he whispered under his breath, grinning. he was gonna do this his way.

 

he stopped himself. this wasn't fair. enjolras had a tough past, and grantaire obviously triggered his depression somehow.

 

_take it slow_ , he told himself. _apollo will notice me. just give him time._

 

he was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice the meeting had finished. enjolras had stopped talking, and everyone else was gossiping in their own groups.

 

so, bahorel said, leaning over the table to talk to him. what do you think is up with jehan?

 

what? grantaire said, quickly looking around to see where jehan was sitting. he was in the far corner, hunched over his phone with a wild grin on his face.

 

he smiled. looks like jehan's found himself a lover, at last. maybe now his poems will make sense, he said, still looking.

 

they both went over to consult their friend, sitting on either side of him, blocking all possible exits.

 

spill the beans then, bahorel said, grinning.

 

huh? jehan looked up, as if he only just noticed them there. then he blushed deeply.

 

you haven't let go of that phone once in the last hour. something's up, and we wanna know who!

 

what if i don't want to tell you? jehan said. what if i already know what you're going to say?

 

come on, jehan, can't you at least give us a clue? grantaire said, before reaching out to grab the phone out of his hands.

 

stop! he said, jerking the device backwards - right into the hands of bahorel.

 

jehan gave up before bahorel even had time to switch it on. okay, okay! he was still grinning. promise you won't tell me anything i don't want to know?

 

well,- bahorel started.

 

yes, grantaire interrupted, giving him a meaningful glance. we promise.

 

fine. i asked montparnasse on a date.

 

and? they both said in unison.

 

jehan couldn't sedate the enormous smile that threatened to tear his cheeks apart. he said yes!

 

grantaire let out a low whistle, but kept to his word and said nothing.

 

bahorel said, that's... great! but even he couldn't hide the lie in his voice. both of them knew what a fucker 'parnasse was.

 

i know, jehan carried on, seemingly oblivious to their doubt. i mean, it's _the_ montparnasse. i feel so lucky.

 

hey, boys! gavroche suddenly said, appearing out of nowhere. i heard 'montparnasse' and thought, oh, this can't be good. he's one nasty little shit, he is.

 

thanks so much for the vote of confidence, gavroche, jehan snapped, annoyed. you know what? no one wants to hear about my love life. i'm gonna leave. have a nice week. alone.

 

with that, he got up and stormed out.

 

gavroche turned to bahorel and grantaire with a guilty look on his face. i didn't realise-

 

don't worry, kid, bahorel said. jehan's just a little testy at the moment.

 

he needed to know, he said. then, trying to lighten up the mood, he continued, anyways, on the topic of boyfriends, i reckon ep's got herself someone.

 

oh really? grantaire said.

 

yep. she won't say nothin', though. whenever i ask, she just screams at me to get out her room. he shrugged. meh, he's probably just some druggie who'll leave her once he's got his fill of fucking her. can't seem to stay away from them ones, can she?

 

grantaire thought about the (rather long) list of eponine's ex boyfriends. uh-huh, he agreed. no she can't.

 

***

 

when grantaire came out of the toilet to go home, only combeferre and enjolras were still there. it sounded like they were arguing. not wanting to interrupt, he stayed where he was, hidden from both of their view.

 

he didn't mean to eavesdrop. again.

 

i don't need your help, combeferre! enjolras spoke.

 

i'm just worried about you, combeferre said.

 

well, you shouldn't be, he replied stubbornly. i'm fine!

 

you don't seem fine to me! ferre countered. don't think i missed the way you pulled your sleeves over your hands last week. don't think i can't tell you've gone off your food. i can see the bags under your eyes!

 

not knowing what to say to that, enjolras said, i won't take any pills. i stopped needing them ages ago.

 

no one specifically told you that. you just thought, one day, oh, these anti-depressants are such a bother to remember. i don't think i'll use them any more!

 

grantaire had never heard combeferre get this angry.

 

there was a long pause. then, enjolras said, you shouldn't have wasted your time and money buying me them. i won't take them.

 

enjolras, please-

 

i'm going home. when you come back, i'll probably be asleep, _like i always am at eleven_ , so don't wake me up.

 

grantaire waited as long as he could after he heard the door slam to come out of his hiding place.

 

oh! combeferre said as he tried to sneak out unnoticed. i didn't know you were still here.

 

_play it casual._ yeah, i was just using the loo.

 

combeferre didn't believe him, he could see that. as grantaire tried to leave, he stopped him.

 

grantaire?

 

hmm?

 

just- nothing. wait. combeferre seemed lost for words. it was _unheard_ of.

 

the silence stretched on forever. grantaire made his way to leave.

 

enjolras. it's- it's not your fault.

 

i know.

 

you should find a way to talk to him.

 

he won't want me to.

 

i know he won't. but you're persistent. _more like annoying_. you'll work it out.

 

_will i?_

 

* * *

 

 

Stupid anti-depressants.

 

He stared at them from across the room. Combeferre had left them on the desk.

 

"I don't need you," he whispered to them.

 

They didn't whisper back.

 

_I don't need them, do I?_ he asked himself silently.

 

_It won't hurt to take them._

 

_It will hurt my pride!_

 

What's pride against sanity? Against mental health? Or a drugged-up version of it, anyway.

 

"I don't need you."

 

He was still staring at them for a long while after Combeferre went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there you have it... the beginning of Jehan's story


	7. Who Am I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't being lazy, I promise, I just really didn't know what to write.

_happy birthday dear grantaire..._

_happy birthday to you!_

 

what the fuck? he thought, still to groggy from sleep (and alcohol the night before) to even bother trying to form coherent words.

 

is he even awake, bahorel?

 

_why was courfeyrac there?_

 

i don't know, courf. i thought you said that if we sing loud enough, he would wake up?

 

i'm awake, guys, grantaire butted in before bahorel and courf got into a heated argument. it probably sounded more like _ahhmm awahh guhhs_ , but he was sure they got the message.

 

now grantaire, what have i told you about drinking too much before your birthday?

 

he opened his eyes to see all of his friends, save for gavroche and eponine, were standing round his bed. you were there as well, feuilly, he said. this time, grantaire thought the words sounded a little more humane. finding his voice at last, he carried on. besides, i swear i told you lot not to worry about my birthday? i don't want anything. i don't want presents or a cake or a party or a fucking song to wake me up at the crack of dawn.

 

8:27, to be precise.

 

thanks, ferre. see? too early.

 

you know, r, you're starting to sound a bit like enjolras, courfeyrac said. you know, stubborn and-

 

_hey!_

 

crap. grantaire cringed at the distinctive sound of enjolras' voice. _no one told me_ he _was here._

 

he sat up, rubbing his eyes and taking a proper look around. jehan, bahorel and feuilly to his left, joly and bossuet at the foot of the bed, combeferre and, yep, there he was, enjolras on his right. courfeyrac was the only one sitting down, and he was on the bed.

 

i would have come and lay next to you, he said. but i'm sure there's more than one person in this room right now who would be slightly disappointed if you woke up in the same bed as me after a drunk night out.

 

you could have heard a pin drop. where there was no noise, there was now something quieter than silence.

 

_what the fuck does that mean?_ grantaire looked quizzically at courfeyrac, who missed the question entirely because he was looking at combeferre, who in turn was looking (maybe a little worriedly) at enjolras. he moved his eyes from courf to joly, who was seemingly trying to hold in laughter at everyone's shocked expressions.

 

well, i wouldn't be disappointed if r finally found himself someone, bahorel said, breaking the silence. annoyed by the sounds coming from his room, maybe, but not disappointed. he's been alone since before i met feuilly.

 

there wouldn't _be_ any noises coming from my bedroom, and you know it, grantaire snapped, the headache that came with the hangover finally kicking in. now get the fuck out of my way, i'm going to take a shower. he practically leapt out of his bed, ignoring the low whistle that escaped from feuilly's lips.

 

***

 

by the time he got out of the shower, everyone had gone. well, he so he thought.

 

jesus, fuck! he half-screamed when he walked into the kitchen topless to find enjolras sitting there sipping a glass of water.

 

they told me to keep you company while they 'sorted some stuff out', he said without looking up.

 

o-okay, grantaire said. are you gonna throw up on me this time? or just blank me, like wednesday? please don't start crying, i can't deal with tears.

 

enjolras threw his fist onto the table. jesus christ, grantaire, do you know how fucking hard this has been for me? to have you, of all people, come back into my life when i least need it? to have to sit there like a normal fucking citizen? do you know how hard that is? then, realising that he'd said it out loud, enjolras' head whipped up to face grantaire eyes wide and hand covering his mouth. shit! he cried. just fucking forget i said anything.

 

no, grantaire said.

 

what?

 

no. elaborate. you're right, i don't know how it's been for you. i can't know until someone tells me, right? but guess what? no one tells me a goddamn thing! combeferre says your 'problems' have something to do with me, but aren't actually to do with me, you know what i'm saying? no, neither do i. he was just standing there, fists clenched, but his voice had risen to a shout. i don't know what it's like for you, but i know what it's like for me! and i don't think you understand that. the whole world doesn't revolve around you, regardless of whether you're the fucking god of the sun or not! you're not the only one who's got troubles! i have too! i bet no one told you that, now, did they?

 

enjolras stood up too, slowly treading the small path around the table to stand in front of grantaire. his face wasn't angry, wasn't upset. it was... questioning? _what?_

 

who _are_ you?

 

grantaire was taken aback by such a general yet meaningful question. fuck, he wasn't used to this. he was expecting violence, forceful and hurtful words. not a deep question.

 

i-... don't know, he said. the more he thought about it, the more the answer made sense. he didn't know who he was. he hadn't had a proper family, ever. he hadn't had a family at all since he was fifteen. he washed his life away with alcohol until it became no more than an endless stretch of blue sea. he had thought he painted his past emotions away, but was he actually doing that, or was he just pushing them deeper and deeper, compacting them down so there was room for more?

 

what would happen when that emotional vault was full?

 

we need to talk, he whispered, not entirely sure if he was even speaking at all.

 

but not now, enjolras whispered back.

 

no, not now. not yet. it was clear their moment had passed.

 

* * *

 

 

_Who are you?_ What type of question was that?

 

"Who am I?" he whispered to himself in the mirror later that day, when he was alone.

 

It was a serious question. One he didn't know if he was ready to answer.

 

He knew he had to soon, though. He was only now starting to realise that maybe he didn't have to wear his past like a badge. Maybe if he moved on, it would get easier.

 

_Maybe if I stopped talking nonsense, I would get somewhere to start moving on_ , he countered. He didn't know how do do this, any of this. It would be so much easier if his counsellor had been like him. So much easier if he knew he wasn't alone.

 

_Alone._ Of course. How could he have missed it? "Talk to Grantaire," Combeferre had said. "Maybe you should talk things through with R," Courfeyrac had said. Fuck, even Grantaire had said "Talk to Grantaire." Maybe not in those exact words, but the meaning was the same.

 

He'd had that opportunity earlier. The opportunity to talk to someone who may know more than others. Fuck it, Grantaire definitely knew more than others. After all, it couldn't be easy hiding who you are from your own son...


	8. The Party Don't Start Till I Walk In

_**surprise!** _

 

grantaire faked his astonishment at the sight of all his friends standing in front of him. it was necessary to make the party complete. they would make a wonderful party 'without him knowing', and he would be surprised that they'd done all of this and he 'hadn't even suspected a thing'.

 

fuck it. he was only there for the booze, and everyone knew it (even if courfeyrac had tried to overlook it and brought multiple board games to play).

 

let's get stoned, he said with a grin on his face, and the party started.

 

***

 

 hey, jehan, buddy! grantaire had lost count of how many drinks he'd had after the first three. he was probably slurring his words, but jehan would understand what he was saying. hopefully.

 

hey, r! good birthday?

 

yeah, it's cool. how did that date with parnasse go?

 

oh man, it was amazing. he's such a sweet person, you know, underneath all that tough shit costume. we went out to dinner somewhere, he paid as well, and then we went back to his house and-

 

_wheeeyyy!_ by the sounds of it, courfeyrac the others were playing drinking games. combeferre was surprisingly good at them.

 

that's really cute, jehan, grantaire said. where is he today? he would have been welcome here, you know.

 

yeah, i did ask him but he said he was busy. something about work, i think.

 

at this time of night?

 

yep. he works in a nightclub, serving drinks.

 

cool. hey, should we go join the others?

 

when they got over, courfeyrac yelled, spin the bottle! everyone else cheered loudly.

 

they sat in a giant circle in bahorel's living room. nearly all of grantaire's friends were there - courf, ferre, bahorel, feuilly, joly, bossuet, jehan and enjolras. did he count as one of his friends? he wasn't sure. either way, he was there. eponine was probably babysitting gavroche, but marius and cosette were there too. grantaire didn't know them as well as the others, but courfeyrac must have invited them.

 

um, i think i'll sit out of this one, enjolras said quietly.

 

okay, courfeyrac said. you can be the judge.

 

you need a judge in spin the bottle? combeferre asked.

 

yeah, of course! someone to decide the forfeits.

 

should they really be called the judge? maybe the overseer or something.

 

okay, enjolras is the overseer! grantaire, you start.

 

grantaire reached for the bottle that had magically appeared on the table in front of them, and spun it. it stopped at a gap in the circle, the gap in front of where enjolras was sitting on the sofa behind them.

 

what a shame you're not playing, grantaire said quietly, suddenly aware of the lack of sound around him.

 

after a few moments, enjolras cleared his throat. as the, um, overseer, i say you should spin again.

 

grantaire did, and this time, it landed on bahorel, who grinned widely.

 

they carried on playing, getting louder and rowdier with every passing second. no one gave up their go for a forfeit, much to grantaire's disappointment. _that would have been fun to watch._

 

courfeyrac had just taken his turn, when grantaire blurted out, you should really join us, enjolras. you're missing out.

 

no! enjolras snapped, standing up suddenly. i'm not missing out on anything. the look on his face was hard to decipher, and grantaire didn't know if it was because he himself was drunk or because there were too many emotions all shown in one place at the same time. it was probably a bit of both.

 

i'm going to get a drink, enjolras announced, storming out of the room.

 

everyone was silent, everyone apart from combeferre, who was rapidly whispering into a concerned courfeyrac's ear, quietly enough so that no one else could hear.

 

i'll... just go check on him, courfeyrac said when combeferre was finished.

 

no.

 

what was grantaire thinking? had he really said that out loud? why had he even thought that?

 

still, he carried on, surprising himself.

 

i should go. i was the one who wound him up in the first place.

 

courfeyrac looked at combeferre, unsure. combeferre nodded slightly.

 

grantaire got up quickly, nearly falling back down again in his drunken state. at least he didn't giggle.

 

***

 

enjolras was standing with his back to the sink in the kitchen holding a glass of water when grantaire found him.

 

sorry, he said. enjolras didn't say anything.

 

talk to me, enjolras. i can't stand not knowing what to do around you.it's like i'm in a mine field and i don't know where to put my feet. one wrong step and you'll explode, taking me with you. if i knew what was wrong, maybe i could-

 

no, you couldn't.

 

right, right. 'i have no idea', do i?

 

enjolras glared at grantaire, then softened his expression and said, not today, grantaire. today is just not the right day.

 

right. today has never been a good day for me either. 15th august. i always thought birthdays were parent-child bonding times, but my dad was never there. the worst one was my twelfth birthday. my dad was out, so i tried to make dinner, but i didn't know how to use our oven. i nearly set our whole fucking house on fire. i was absolutely petrified, and none of that would have happened if he was there. but instead, he was satisfying his own pleasures. sure. just forget about your own fucking son, why don't you. fuck.

 

why do you care so much about your dad? he's- i mean, he sounds like a shitty person.

 

i was _twelve_ , enjolras. i didn't know any different. besides, he hadn't... it wasn't the same then.

 

only now did grantaire realise that he was standing right next to enjolras. he looked up at him, and enjolras met his stare.

 

he leaned closer.

 

grantaire... enjolras whispered.

 

shh, he said, bringing his hands up to pull enjolras' lips down onto his. his eyes were closed involuntarily, and the contact ignited a fire in his body. for a moment, he thought enjolras was going to give in. he brought his hands up to grantaire's chest.

 

you're drunk, grantaire, he said, pushing him away. go and enjoy your party.

 

* * *

 

 

"Courfeyrac, can I talk to you?"

 

"Sure, Enj! What's up?"

 

"Um, it's about last night."

 

"Oh, right. I'm sorry about that. I know it was a bad time for you, and I was going to come and speak to you, but then R insisted he do it instead, so-"

 

"Yeah, Grantaire."

 

"Uh-oh, what did he do?"

 

"He didn't _do_ anything. I mean he did, but I did too- well, not really but nearly, and-"

 

"Enjolras, just tell me what's on your mind."

 

"Grantaire kissed me."

 

Courfeyrac was silent. Enjolras was blushing furiously. Both of them stopped walking along the path back to Combeferre's house.

 

After a millennium had passed, Courfeyrac spoke, this time quietly. Enjolras had almost never heard Courfeyrac's quiet voice, and that was after being friends with him for nearly fifteen years.

 

"Do you need me to talk to him?"

 

"No. Yes. I don't know. Courfeyrac, I'm confused."

 

"Confused?"

 

"I know it shouldn't even be possible - after his dad, and everything, I should hate him, but-"

 

Courfeyrac raised one eyebrow.

 

"I, um, I think I kind of liked it."


	9. Almost There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to make up for the two week 'holiday' I took, so hopefully I'll be posting non-stop (or as much as humanly possible). Also, I don't know if this is going to be that much longer - maybe 15,000 words in total? The next few chapters are sort of fillers, before the big ending. All right, I'll shut up! No spoilers!

of course, it was all he could think about. not that it was much different from usual, but now it was the heat and electricity coursing through his entire body that he remembered vividly, not just a blonde-haired shadow in his dreams.

 

the day after the party, he'd had a massive hangover, complete with a splitting headache and half-asleep grogginess as the large amounts of alcohol finished leaving his body. but still, he couldn't stop grinning. bahorel and feuilly noticed something was up, but neither of them felt it was wise to comment.

 

grantaire knew he was being stupid, if not a little naive. enjolras had pushed him away, hadn't he? or had he been imagining that through the dazed alcoholic state?

 

was this whole thing just a vivid dream? a hope, a wish?

 

did enjolras even know grantaire liked him?

 

he was going to have to do something. a phone call. a visit to combeferre's, where enjolras was currently staying. something, anything. but first, he had to sleep. again.

 

***

 

grantaire was awoken by his phone. he picked it up. it was courfeyrac.

 

courf, he mumbled, still pretty much asleep. what are you doing? it's too early in the morning.

 

r, it's 4:37 in the afternoon. that's not the morning.

 

really? oh, well, i must have slept for longer than i expected.

 

anyways, we need to talk.

 

huh?

 

enjolras doesn't have a protective older brother, and combeferre is currently unable to use his phone, so he is sitting here telling me everything i need to say to you. courfeyrac paused, probably talking to combeferre. okay, he said i didn't need to say that, but-

 

what are you talking about, courf?

 

don't force him to do anything he doesn't want to do, always ask permission, remember that he's had a rough past. talk to him before anything happens, and, if it comes to this, always cover up, because stds are still a thing, no thanks to scientists. grantaire heard a faint hey! from combeferre. he couldn't quite grasp the concept of what they were saying.

 

i don't think i know what you're saying.

 

grantaire, do you even remember anything that happened last night?

 

oh, is this about the party? i was hoping to get some answers too, you see, i was very drunk, and i can't distinguish between fact and fiction in my mind.

 

courfeyrac sighed exasperatedly. just tell him, combeferre said.

 

okay, r, here it is. we organised a birthday party for you, and-

 

yeah, yeah, i know that part, but what happened with enjolras?

 

you kissed him.

 

and did he push me away? or did i make that part up?

 

he pushed you away. but listen, he talked to me about it, and he thinks it was because you were drunk and you didn't know what you were doing. is that right?

 

yes, kind of? but i'd do it again sober.

 

...okay. enjolras needs to know that, and you must be the one to tell him. call him when we've finished, and tell him the truth. tell him to come over and talk things through. and do it quickly, r - enjolras goes back to college soon.

 

grantaire was suddenly panicked. soon? how soon? did he only have a week? was it even less than that? two days?

 

and how was he going to tell him the truth?

 

grantaire? are you still there?

 

yeah. um, i'll call him. i'm going to go now. bye.

 

but-

 

grantaire hung up before courfeyrac could say any more.

 

he looked down at his phone. how was he going to do this? he opened his contacts, where enjolras' name was saved. he didn't even know when he'd gotten the number.

 

he clicked the name, and it came up with the options. call? email? whatsapp?

 

grantaire's breath hitched, and he dropped his phone on the bed he was now sat up on. there was no way this was going to go well. how on earth would they even work out? enjolras was going home in what - a week tops? that was no where near enough time. for anything.

 

bahorel popped his head round the bedroom door, startling grantaire.

 

finally awake, are we? he said, jokingly. grantaire only groaned in reply.

 

well, me and feuilly are going out this evening, just thought you should know. in case you want to bring anyone round or anything. he winked. grantaire laughed weakly.

 

anyways, we're just getting in the shower. we shouldn't be long.

 

together?

 

of course.

 

***

 

grantaire had been staring at his phone for the past ten minutes, wishing it would do something on it's own, wishing that it could sort out all his problems.

 

it didn't.

 

he picked it up for the hundredth time, switching it on, switching it off. unlocking it only to turn it off again. putting it down carefully then grabbing hold of it roughly. manually typing in the memorised number. wasting time.

 

he very nearly chucked it across the room. it very nearly hit the windowsill and smashed. he very nearly gave up and threw it in the bin.

 

he picked it up again, this time bringing up his list of contacts and clicking on enjolras' name. he was just about to click the call button, when the doorbell rang.

 

grantaire nearly jumped out of his skin, the harsh noise breaking the silence and sending a shiver down his spine. _what is wrong with me?_

 

he practically flew down the stairs, thankful for the sudden yet helpful distraction. not thinking about it much, he yanked open the door.

 

standing there was enjolras.

 

grantaire was taken aback.he wasn't sure who he'd been expecting, but enjolras' appearance surprised him.

 

can i come in? enjolras asked abruptly.

 

yeah. um... sure. he didn't know what to say or do.

 

enjolras stepped in, reaching down to take his battered converse off.

 

oh, don't worry about that, grantaire blurted out. we don't usually take ours off. here, let me take that. he held his had out for the red coat enjolras was taking off.

 

they sat down in his bedroom. grantaire wasn't sure of the implications of this. he was very aware of how disgusting everything was. he was wearing the tshirt and slacks he'd slept in, his too-long hair was sticking out all over the place, and he probably had deep bags under his eyes. he felt like he hadn't showered in ages. his bed was unmade, and there was a half-empty glass of water on his bedside table. his phone was still on, open at his contacts list, highlighting enjolras' name. he quickly turned it off before he enjolras noticed.

 

sorry about the mess, he mumbled, not just talking about the room.

 

it's okay. enjolras was looking at him intently, as if he was only just taking all of him in. _what a terrible first impression this must be_ , he thought.

 

grantaire cleared his throat. so, um... was there anything... can i get you something? did you want anything? he was lost for words.

 

enjolras said nothing, still staring at him.

 

he didn't know where to look, what to think. his mind and heart were both in overdrive, pounding and throbbing, the remains of a headache still there.

 

kiss me, grantaire.

 

grantaire was shocked, to say the least. he opened his mouth to speak, but enjolras gave him a look that kept him quiet. he shuffled closer, unsure of whether to proceed. there was no way enjolras actually wanted this. did he?

 

grantaire wanted it. he wanted it so bad. maybe just for a moment, he could forget everything else...

 

he leaned forward, and enjolras did the same. he closed his eyes, and pushed his lips onto enjolras'...

 

hey, r! we-

 

they sprang apart, embarrassed.

 

oh, shit. sorry, bro, oh man, fuck! bahorel was standing in the doorway with an almost horrified expression on his face.

 

man, why didn't you put a sock on the door? i didn't know you had company. i'm so sorry, r.

 

what's going on? feuilly came up behind bahorel, wrapping his arms around his waist. it looked quite funny this way round, because bahorel was so much bigger than feuilly. but no one was laughing.

 

oh, hey enjolras! feuilly said cheerily. he was obviously better at hiding his embarrassment. that, or he just didn't know what happened. _nah. he's feuilly. of course he knows._ we just wanted to say we're leaving now, r.

 

they were both dressed up to go out. bahorel was wearing black skinny jeans, a tshirt and a leather jacket, which was pretty much all he owned, and feuilly was in a shirt and trousers, with a face full of make up to match.

 

bahorel was still speechless, so enjolras spoke up, his voice surprisingly calm. grantaire didn't know how he did it.

 

we hope you have fun, he said, smiling.

 

you too, feuilly said, smiling back.

 

oh, i was actually just leaving, enjolras said. i didn't need to stay for long.

 

we don't mind if you stay, bahorel said, finally finding his voice. there's probably a cold pizza in the fridge, or something... he trailed off, not sure how to continue.

 

it's fine, enjolras said, standing up. i should probably get home. combeferre might be wondering where i am.

 

grantaire didn't point out that combeferre was most likely still at courfeyrac's, doing who knew what.

 

well, we'll see you later, feuilly said, pulling bahorel out of the room backwards. come on, babe, let's go, he said to bahorel as their voices faded away down the corridor.

 

you don't have to go. grantaire said as soon as he heard the front door close.

 

it's okay, grantaire, enjolras said, opening the bedroom door.

 

at least let me walk you home.

 

i think i can find my way on my own.

 

i know, but... grantaire stopped. he was too tired to argue. you know what, just go. i'll talk to you again later, maybe. good bye. he yanked the bedroom door fully open and watched as enjolras took his coat and left without saying another word.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras would have felt so much better if someone had walked home with him. Okay, not someone. Grantaire.

 

But he couldn't let it show that he was still scared senseless by something that happened years ago. Grantaire probably already thought he was a total wimp, what with all this crying and storming off whenever he came near.

 

_Grantaire_. Even the name sent shivers down his spine. He couldn't explain this feeling, the one that had come by all of a sudden. It started in his heart, flinging itself all around his body. It felt like electricity, no, fire, a raging red flame that engulfed his soul, a spark set alight by just one kiss.

 

Enjolras smiled. He couldn't help it. He felt so warm inside.

 

That didn't last long. Soon, he heard a pattern in the rhythmical thumps coming from behind him, never changing in pitch or volume, always the same.

 

_Someone's following me_ , he thought, panicked, terrified. He wanted to speed up, to look back, but he knew he couldn't let on that he was scared. He kept going forward, turning the necessary corners, chewing his lip until he tasted blood.

 

_Wait. I can't lead them to Combeferre's._ He couldn't lead them to any of his friends' houses _. Is there even anyone there? Am I just paranoid? Should I just keep going? Should I turn back?_

 

His breathing was too quick. He needed to calm down. He needed to do something, anything. He needed answers, but first, he needed to know the questions.

 

He turned around and ran.


	10. Us, We Were Pity Sex, Nothing More And Nothing Less

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Grantaire is completely oblivious and Jehan is an angry little flower.

grantaire could hear the fists banging on the door. someone must be really desperate to talk to him. that, or they were not doing a very good job of breaking in quietly. either way, he was currently emptying his bladder. it was a basic human need - nothing he could do about it.

 

he finished and half-ran to the door, which was probably suffering from severe damage by now.

 

okay, okay, i'm just coming! he shouted down the hallway. jesus christ! why are you so desperate- woah!

 

he stopped talking as a rather disgruntled enjolras fell through the barely open door into his arms, kicking it violently shut after him. he seemed out of breath, like he'd run a long way.

 

are you okay? he asked softly as enjolras buried his head into the crook of grantaire's neck.

 

i think... there was... someone... following me, enjolras said through heavy breaths, the sound muffled through grantaire's tshirt.

 

do you want to come and sit down? by now, he knew not to ask if he wanted to talk about it. enjolras nodded, looking back at the closed door with a worried expression on his face.

 

they sat on the sofa in the front room this time, not in the bedroom. it wasn't as awkward as before, but grantaire still sat on the other end of the old leather seat.

 

enjolras had other thoughts. grantaire was shocked, almost, when he scooted over and wrapped his arms around his waist. he pushed his head into grantaire's neck, awkwardly half-slouching because he was so much taller than him.

 

he slowly brought his arms round until they rested on enjolras' back. he stroked him softly, trying to offer some comfort, but still his tears soaked grantaire's green tshirt.

 

after a few more moments, grantaire asked, is that not uncomfortable?

 

yeah, a little, enjolras replied, now having calmed down slightly. he sat up, taking his arms from around grantaire and placing them self-consciously in his lap.

 

did you say someone was following you?

 

um. i don't know. i heard footsteps, heavy. it... i...

 

you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. grantaire was unsure where this sudden soft side was coming from. he'd never acted like this before.

 

no, it's fine. it just reminded me of a traumatic experience that happened in the past.

 

ahh. _the_ traumatic experience?

 

yeah.

 

enjolras, are you ever going to tell me what happened?

 

i was raped.

 

wait, what? grantaire had meant talking about it i the future, he hadn't been expecting an outright answer like that.

 

then it struck him what enjolras had actually said.

 

oh my god. oh my god, i'm so sorry. fuck, what do i say to that? fuck. oh man.

 

you don't have to say anything. it happened, what - 10 years ago? it was in the past. i'm over it.

 

fuck, i feel like an awful person. i'm so sorry.

 

like i said, i'm fine. then, as if he was rethinking what he just said, enjolras looked down into his lap, frowning.

 

actually, would you mind doing something for me?

 

of course. anything.

 

please could you, um, go and check that there wasn't anyone following me? i know it's stupid, but... he trailed off.

 

sure! grantaire got up and headed towards the door.

 

thanks. it was probably nothing, just paranoia, but just in case. sorry again.

 

it's no problem. don't worry about it.

 

he walked slowly down the corridor, suddenly afraid that there would be someone there, someone bad. maybe it was even enjolras' rapist, back for more. _fuck_.

 

still, he went and opened the door.

 

grantaire! grantaire's dad lowered his hand, not needing to ring the doorbell any more.

 

what are you doing here? grantaire hissed. how do you know where i live?

 

i... i asked around. i was thinking we could have a talk, you know, a bit of father-son bonding time.

 

what the actual fuck, dad. grantaire rolled his eyes, then glared at his father. not wanting to argue about it and keep enjolras waiting, he said, well, i've got company. i'm busy. i don't have time for you. as in, please-would-you-kindly-fuck-off-right-now.

 

his strangely good mood couldn't be quenched. well, maybe you could stop off back home some time? i feel bad that you missed out on so much as a child.

 

grantaire rolled his eyes again. dad, go away. you missed your chance. good riddance. with that, he slammed the door in his face.

 

he went back to enjolras, only now remembering that he was meant to be looking to see if anyone was out there. there was no one but his dad, was there?

 

was there anyone there? enjolras asked.

 

grantaire hesitated. no... no there wasn't.

 

enjolras raised an eyebrow, questioning the hesitation, but he didn't say anything.

 

there was an awkward silence, neither of them did anything but stare at the other.

 

um, do you mind if i stay for a bit longer? just, in case, you know they're still lurking around the corner. if there even was anyone, which there probably wasn't.

 

grantaire looked at the clock. it was getting quite late. you want to just stay the night? you can have my bed, and i'll take the sofa, i don't mind. i'm sure bahorel and feuilly will be fine with it too.

 

oh, are you sure?

 

yeah, it's absolutely fine.

 

enjolras paused before he spoke. thank you, grantaire.

 

i told you, it's fi-

 

no. i mean thanks for everything. for being so understanding. for not judging, and also not being too annoying. he grinned. and for letting me have your bed.

 

grantaire smiled back, genuinely happy for the first time in his life.

 

* * *

 

 

Jehan grinned, checking his keys in his pocket again.

 

_His keys_. he already had keys to Montparnasse's apartment. It felt serious.

 

Technically, he was turning up for this 'date' early. Half an hour early. But 'Parnasse wouldn't mind. He always seemed to be early. It was Jehan's turn for once.

 

He let himself in. "Montparnasse?" he called, fiddling with his braid. Nervous habit. "I'm here!"

 

He heard rustling coming from across the room, in the kitchen. Good. He was home.

 

He walked into the kitchen. "Hey-" He stopped short when he saw his boyfriend.

 

Montparnasse wasn't facing him. He was facing the opposite direction completely. He was stark naked, thrusting into the table.

 

No, not the table. A girl. A curvy, dark haired girl who was bent over the kitchen worktop, groaning.

 

Montparnasse hadn't heard Jehan's entrance, but Eponine had.

 

She turned her head sharply. "Jehan? What are you doing here?"

 

Montparnasse heard her this time. "Je-" He choked on his words.

 

All Jehan could see was Montparnasse's pale ass, Eponine's smudged lip gloss and dishevelled hair. All he could see was the colour red.

 

"Don't bother with introductions, M, I know this one." He sneered angrily. "I wonder how many others of your fuck buddies I would recognise?"

 

"Jehan, listen, I-"

 

"It's alright, I was just leaving, actually. No need for any explanations." Jehan didn't raise his voice, but in a way, keeping his voice down was far worse.

 

He took his key to Montparnasse's out of his pocket. Holding it in both hands, he bent it in half, nearly snapping it.

 

"I guess I won't be needing this any more," he said, tossing it onto the floor, then stamping on it for good measures. "Goodbye, Montparnasse. Goodbye, and good riddance."

 

He turned so sharply his braid nearly whipped him in the eye. He flounced out of the house, slamming the front door, ignoring 'Parnasse's shouts.

 

* * *

 

 

Eponine punched him in the face, not in shock from the events that had just occurred any more.

 

"Eponine-"

 

"Jehan's right, you know." She took her key out of her bra, slamming it on the worktop, only narrowly missing Montparnasse's hand. The granite chipped from the force.

 

Never once breaking eye contact, she redressed quickly, glaring the whole time. She didn't bother buttoning her shirt up completely.

 

"I should take this key," she said, "and shove it up your ass, but your head's already so far up it that it wouldn't fit." She too turned sharply, whipping him with her hair.

 

"So long, dickhead." She stopped in the doorway and turned her head. "Oh, and that girl you're gonna fuck tonight? Send her my regards. She deserves them with all the shit you've probably put her through. I would do it myself, but I'm not sure you're ready for me to meet her yet, are you?"

 

Not waiting to hear the reply, she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jehan and Eponine are on the war path... I'd watch out, Montparnasse.

**Author's Note:**

> o_0
> 
> thanks for reading I'll try and post regularly


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